Sean would have told me I was in too deep and he would have been right.
We had our contractually obligated date nights twice a week. Carefully staged dinners where we let photographers catch us looking like a couple in love. We also had quiet evenings at home, where I attempted to cook dinner and failed spectacularly. Then Paige would laugh and take over, patiently explaining why you couldn’t just put frozen chicken directly in a hot pan.
“You’re supposed to let it thaw first, Derek,” she would say, nudging me away from the stove. “Otherwise, it cooks unevenly.”
“That seems inefficient.”
“That’s called food safety.”
I watched her move around my kitchen like she belonged there, chopping vegetables with practiced ease, and tried not to think about how fucking right it felt and how much I wanted it to be real.
I didn’t want to end it.
It was three in the morning on a Saturday, and Lily had been screaming for over an hour, and nothing was working. Paige was crying almost as hard as Lily, rocking her daughter with shaking arms, and the sight of them both so miserable made my chest crack.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Paige sobbed, her voice breaking. “I’ve tried everything. Feeding, changing, rocking, singing. Nothing is working and I feel like a terrible mother.”
I crossed the room and gently took Lily from her arms. “You’re not a terrible mother. You’re exhausted. Go to bed. I got her.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Paige,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “Go. Sleep. I mean it.”
She hesitated, looking between me and Lily with red, swollen eyes. Then she nodded and stumbled out of the room like a zombie.
I looked down at Lily, who was still wailing like the world was ending. “Alright, kid. It’s just us now.”
I tried everything. Rocking? She screamed louder. Singing? She looked offended by my voice. I pulled up white noise apps on my phone, cycling through everything from ocean waves to vacuum cleaners. Nothing. Na-da.
I checked her diaper, but it was dry. Offered a bottle and she turned her head away furiously.
After a few minutes of walking laps around my penthouse with a screaming baby, I was starting to understand Paige’s desperation.
“Come on, Lily,” I muttered, bouncing her gently. “Work with me here, sweetheart.”
The said sweetheart screamed louder, her little face red and scrunched up.
In desperation, I started talking. Just... talking. About the first thing that came to mind.
“So here’s the thing about contract law,” I started, keeping my voice low and steady. I trailed off, talking about my work and whatever I could remember from my college days.
Surprisingly, Lily’s cries slowed.
I kept going, walking her slowly around the living room. “Now, there’s also the statute of frauds to consider…” As I kept talking, her crying reduced to little sighs.
“And then we get into a breach of contract,” I continued, my voice taking on that lecturing tone I used in court.
Lily’s eyes were open now, staring up at me with that intense baby focus.
“Then there’s the question of remedies,” I said, staring back at her. “Compensatory damages, consequential damages, liquidated damages if they’re specified in the contract…”
Her eyes started to droop. I kept talking, droning on about equitable remedies and specific performance, and somewhere around my explanation of the difference between rescission and reformation, she fell asleep against my shoulder.
I stood there frozen, afraid to move or breathe.
Success. Fucking finally!
“What did you do?”
